hunter of tears, relative pain
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half of this world is dark with the stain
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the stain of unknowing
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the dead flower buds,
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on smiling lips is innocent blood
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the corpse of your god can only rot and grow cold
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now promise me you'll kill me before I get old
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I hear you on the telephone
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moaning my doom
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a cold woman will kill me in a darkened room
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just enough, a heart attack
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seal up my black body bag
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take me home and hate me, love
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bite the hand of our lost love
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take your time and take your life
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amputate with this dull knife
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heaven's meat is on the stick
|
stir my pain with an ice pick
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pick, pick, pick
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pick, pick, pick
|
pick, pick, pick
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the chain-saw smile of the mortician shines
|
I still got all my fingers but somewhere I lost my mind
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I can smell abortion on you
|
I can see through
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I take the gun out of my mouth and point it at you
|
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The Mortician's Flame
|
Acid Bath |